I was reading Nita's post about parenting. Couldn't help as my thoughts ventured into how I was brought up. In my family, my dad was the lenient type and mom the stricter one. Initially, my mom didn't venture into the academic portion of my upbringing; that was left to my dad. But then two things happened.
1. A KV(Kendriya Vidyalaya) opened in Dongargarh( a tehsil about 4 hours from Bhilai). In those days, KV in dongargarh was a big thing coz there wasn't a single real school in there( I think it still is). This would be like opening of a CCD/Mc.D in Kharagpur. So, every parent in dgg wanted to send their wards to this prestigious school.
2. Plague broke out in Surat which meant that my father had to go to tend to the patients which also meant that he was not present to help me prepare with the entrance test to the school.(this is Class 3 I'm talking about)
I of course failed. I actually failed in Hindi and passed in English and Mathematics. Yes, once upon a time I was very weak in Hindi. My father had to use his sources and bribe the principal to eventually secure my admission in that school.
My mom obviously didn't like it wee bit coz I was in that school solely due to my father. It was then that she decided to take my academic affairs into her hands. She obviously had lost faith in my father's lackadaisical tutelage. I had just managed to score 60% marks in Class 1 and Class 2. Time to straighten up the kid.
The study sessions with her were torturous to say the least. Ear-twisting and hair plucking were common affairs to her plus I was not allowed to cry. She would bark at the top of her voice,'Kante baron korechi!!'(You are not allowed to cry).
So, what would follow would be this wheezing sound followed by pause and then again the wheezing sound and a pause in alternating patterns.
She was of course brilliantly trained by Grandpa. The story of my grandpa goes like this. He craved for a son to carry out his family name and tried very hard. But, every time a girl child would be born to him. Eventually the number stopped at 7(my mom was no. 4). You can imagine how pissed off this guy must have been and how much love he must have showered upon his daughters. Add to that my mother unfulfilled wish for graduation.(She was married off half way through her graduation) No wonder all those pent up frustration came crashing down onto me. Damn you Grandpa!!
One of her favorite rants would be,'Salar okal kusmondo, kon ku khone poida hoe chilis, jobe teke poida hoye chis jaliye pudiye kheli'. This roughly translates into O thy wretched son, you have caused me innumerable sufferings since the moment you were born to me.' Translation really takes the edge off.
I remember one particular incident when after repeated instructions I forgot to put the chandra-bindu on madhumakhiyan, she in a belligerent tone told me to get out of her sight. So, I stood up and started to walk out of the house. 'Aye! where are you going?' She screamed back. 'I think you told me to...isn't this what you told me.' I scratched my head in confusion. 'Come back.' She said after banging her head into her palm.
The standards set by her in academics were very high. I remember she started crying when I stood third in class 5 after coming first in class 4. That was really funny. But, more funny was that I had to act remorseful and really try hard not to break into a laugh in front of her.Later that night at dinner, she said that I should quit studying and that she would ask Dad to open a pan-shop for me.'Yeah, okay...I'll take up the offer.' I replied in a jestful way. She visited my school the next day, and made sure that every teacher knew how I had become negligent with my studies.
I see these American way of bringing up kids and how they are 'grounded' and I think I was grounded for the first 16 years of life!! A fixed one hour of TV-viewing and that too DD-1. Yeah, that's true. I wonder how I turned up sane. There was also just two hours of fixed play-time. I remember messing this up too one day.
Now, no kid wants to drink milk. My mother insisted that I should finish up my glass before heading out to play. In my hurry the glass slipped out of my hands and the milk spilled all over the floor. My mom didn't acknowledge that as a mistake and assumed it to be one of my mischiefs. So, she locked me up in the bathroom. Peeved on denied the chance to play, I decided, 'I have had enough of this life.' I flushed each and every soap down the toilet and emptied the shampoo and oil bottles on the floor. I seriously wished that may be she will after go through her threat of drilling a hole through my neck with the kitchen knife if I cause enough problems for her. Nothing of that sort happened otherwise I wouldn't have been writing all this. Isn't it? ;)
Over the years, her image for me has changed from the gigantic eight-headed, eight-legged grotesque monster (when every direction would reverberate with 'Bhago, mummy aa rahi hai') to a lady who is too much preoccupied to see her sons stand on their legs. I say to her 'Maa, in case you didn't notice we have been standing on our legs since we were 1 year old.' Bhagwan, Maa ko sadbudhhi de
'Yeah, Darwin suggests so.' I answered.
'Must be true. You know how I'm sure of it. That American lady who plays tennis, she exactly looks like one.'
My father and I burst out in laughters. Poor Darwin. He had to undergo several years of research and that too on finches to arrive at the same conclusion.
On Sunday times editorial page, M J Akbar in his article 'India, Pak aren't neighbors; they are worlds apart' suggests 'If a poll were taken in India, asking whether Pakistan should be relocated in Latin America, the answer would be an unanimous yes.' I think Mr. Akbar completely misses the point. Even if such a poll is taken in Pakistan, before casting any choice the question asked would be 'Who gets to keep Kashmir?' ;)
Akbar should have known better. Personally, I feel India should be relocated right past Brazil. That way the carnival dancers would be just stone's throw away from us. :D
Few things are as revered in Brazilian culture as the bunda-the female posterior. Just like God who's omnipresent in here, the bunda has its conspicuous presence in there.
PS: I always had this feeling that I was born in the wrong country.
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